Second Glances
byakuxhisa4eva
"The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies, With the dying sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies, When love is done."
- Francis William Bourdillon (1852-1921)
Perhaps it was only her his eyes ever saw.
They only served as outlets for his bitter hatred, as part of a worthless world. But she...
All the words in the existence failed to capture her worth to him. She was everything. It was as if nothing else existed, like she was in a whole other world – the only world that mattered. Bitter resentment, that without pause or a flicker of hesitation, he would choose her above all else, was perhaps what drove them to hate with a burning passion – but they never could hate her.
They loved her too – but he had always loved her so much more.
Those deemed beneath him – scum on his shoes, the dirt beneath his feet, the enemies that hurt her – existed as less than nothing. Others – all others – was naught but resentful obedience – willing to serve, but never worth a second glance for her sake. Loyalty to them – his family, his home – would never so much as graze his undying devotion to her.
It was beautiful, they supposed, in its own way.
How every living moment spent at her side was with elation, bitter eyes alight with unspoken happiness, a miniscule smile flooded with content – that was never directed elsewhere. The over-whelming river of loving adoration that poured through his eyes – eyes that were usually so cold and unfeeling – had made them all feel out of place in the picture-perfect scene, but for instances, he had not cared.
How he held her with loving embraces and soothing touches, as he raised her hand and placed upon a gentle kiss – eyes locked with hers, eyes glazed over in blissful content; his princess, his Queen.
How he glowered in unmasked malice and jealously when another intended anything but polite friendliness; always demanding to be the very center of her attention – just as she was always his.
How, for her, even his cool temperament, that had dispelled so many others, would be compromised...
How he adored her.
Their eighteenth year marked a world of change, as he gave her his name, his heart, his very soul – vowing to protect and cherish her for the eternity they were together – a vow already made many years ago. Not one could doubt his love for her, not a being in the world could tarnish the purity of his complete devotion to his most precious person. For finally, she was his – completely, always, and forever, in every possible way – and for a time, they had never been more blissful in their content.
But tragedy, like happiness, is a child of fate, and a sky no longer filled with stars knows naught but tragic love.
Terror and fear spread like plague, the world reduced to ash. Complete villages annihilated in hours, no man, no woman, no child spared. It had been misfortune they all knew to come – the final confrontation between the ends of the finely drawn lines linking all that separated the world – and not a soul would be spared in the bitter turmoil that all had been plunged into, drowning in dark madness. All wrong that had ever happened, every war, every massacre, every tiny little event that had been stitched into the past – piled and twisted and melded into one last act of all despair that blanketed the roaring flames to their inescapable retribution.
A world of chaos.
Still they watched, in the heat of battles, of many tragedies, in a world where peace was but a distant memory – blurred and faded – reminiscent of a once beautiful painting.
To enemy ranks, even to some of their own, he fought for the village he loved, the home and family there, fierce, determined, ruthless and intimidating on the battlefield – where duty stood above all else. But they knew, as he wiped away enemies like sweeping Death, jaw set and eyes cold, it was not so much his sense of duty to his homeland he fought so valiantly for, but his love and loyalty to the one woman who was his whole world.
He fought for her.
Perhaps it had been realized, but soldiers in battle were but tools in the flesh – a well functioning mechanism the only real concern. If it was only her that bound him to them, so be it.
He was brilliant, a genius, a prodigy among even the most gifted; their most powerful combatant, their most prized possession. He was not one they could afford to lose, especially in darkened times.
They needed him – even if he didn't need them.
Three years. Hundreds of days, thousands of weeks, countless seconds lost to a timeless battle. A lustful hunger of human blood only death and pain satisfied cast over them like permanent night: dark, ominous. But still they fought; them for their village, and the hope of a happy future, proud, determined, unyielding even as comrades fell with enemies; him for the existence of the only happiness he had ever known.
But the deceased towered to unfathomable peaks, their power drained to less than half; their former glory diminished to dying embers.
An alliance – a truce – was perhaps the only road to take. They argued, batting with only words and empty threats, debating, compromising, until, at last, an agreement was reached.
A flawless plan perfectly executed; a concealed attack amidst even cease-fire, unseen, invisible, but present all the same. They wanted their mistress of weapons, their unbeatable dragon of steel – a prize so well protected she was untouchable unless forfeited.
They wanted her.
Her who meant the world to him, his sole reason for existence, who, without, he was but an empty shell. His wife, his precious person – the only one that meant anything in a world he could never love.
Words were never necessary, battle or otherwise – his actions spoke in volumes. His face was a mask of flawlessly concealed emotion – her the only exception – with eyes twin pools of past bitterness – a steely gaze that petrified even the most fearless. A perfect tool for battle – emotionless, stoic, cold and unfeeling.
Even upon the announcement they feared to speak, he remained still and unchanging – callous eyes, rigged stance, lips a thin line.
They had been surprised, to say the least. Even with his icy temperament, they had – at the very least – expected an infuriated tirade in retaliation – yelling, threats, even open declaration of betrayal. The surfacing despair in their consciences clawed within their chests; and anything would have been better than what they got – their only response a taunt nod and abrupt departure.
They had called out to him – as his superiors, his peers, his friends, even if the notion wasn't returned – but the silence echoing against the fading walls pounded in their ears, and, unknowingly, with their hearts, pulsing against the fine line that bound utter desperation.
Perhaps it was only that they ever desired – no matter how fleeting, even ephemeral in nature. Possibly, one day, perhaps, the village he never loved, the people he never cared for, would exist in his centered world. Their eyes did not see the clenched fist beneath folds of robes, nor the tremor of his arm from scarcely stifled fury – the utter loathing in his eyes would have exploded in that instant – so his eyes never faltered.
Fate fought his every step. Fate had taken his father from him, Fate had stolen his life – twisted it, bent it, broken it if only to see him suffer. But the strongest force in the world could not take her away – away from his side. She was his – forever, for eternity – he would sacrifice the world if she could be saved.
His Fate was but a single star in the sky - for all the heavens dimmed in their destiny.
The opalescent moon shone brightly in the midnight sky that night – tracing the outline of the village in an unearthly moonlit radiance. The wind noiselessly blew through the trees, leading the foliage in an equally soundless dance. Within the silent darkness, in the flow of the drifting wind, he stole her away from the only world they had ever known – strict laws and absolute rules that bound all to each with no tolerance for betrayal.
Alliances meant nothing to him; mere formalities for convenience. They meant nothing to him, but she meant everything. He fought to protect her – not to defend allies. They had betrayed him – but he would never betray her.
His twin orbs glinted brilliantly in the shadows – like the luminous sphere in the midnight heavens.
Clouds blew over the moon –
He never gave them a second glance.
"Let the world stop turning, Let the sun stop burning,
Let them tell me love's not worth going through.
If it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart,
The only dream that mattered had come true ...
In this life I was loved by you."
- Bette Midler
August 19th, 2008
Word Count: 1418
Author's Notes: Just an angsty little muse that's been haunting me for weeks, partially inspired by Cyberwolf's 'Set Apart'. Anyone guess the pairing without looking at the top or the summary? The girl is pretty obvious, but the guy is pretty obvious too. What gave it away? Written partially for an English assignment to experiment with hidden meanings and to play with assumptions. How'd I do?
Reviews are much appreciated.